Page 42 of Rules, Roses, and Rivals
Did I sleep well, tangled in the arms of someone who wasn’t mine?
Did I sleep well whileforgettingMathieu existed?
“Pretty good,” I answered, even though my voice shook. “A little weird when I realized you were still here.”
He chuckled softly. “Weird good? Or weird bad?”
His fingers traced the curve of my ear, sending shivers that made it hard to think.
I hesitated. And in that silence, I saw it—the flicker in his expression. Hope, maybe. Vulnerability. Something that made my chest ache.
Did this mean something?
Maybe it did.
How the hell…
And the worst part?
I wasn’t sure I wanted to correct him.
“Weird undecided,” I said, not quite able to keep from smiling. “This is kind of—nice.”
His gaze searched mine, hungry but soft. Like this moment had been waiting for both of us to catch up to it.
“Yeah?” he murmured, his hand sliding into my hair, fingers gentle as they coasted down to the back of my neck. “Frankie?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m going to kiss you.”
A slow flutter of panic and desire surged through me—sweet, sharp, and terrifying.
There was no teasing in his voice, no smirk. Just sincerity. Intention.
I nodded.
Then he kissed me.
It started soft. Barely-there brushes of his lips against mine, like he was memorizing the shape of my mouth. Then again. And again. Light, teasing, feather-soft. I gasped softly and he caught it, deepened the kiss, and when I opened to him, his tongue swept in—hot, slow, possessive.
The world dropped away.
He shifted, rolling us gently so I was curled into his side, his body lined along mine. One hand slid around my waist, tugging me flush. The other cupped the back of my neck, holding me steady as the kiss turned from searching toneedy. Every strokeof his mouth, every wet drag of his tongue sent sparks flying across my skin.
My legs tangled with his. His thigh slipped between mine, firm and unrelenting. I rocked against him before I even realized it, chasing that pressure, that burn.
Jake groaned against my mouth, one hand sliding under the hem of my tank top to touch skin. His fingers were warm and a little rough, grazing over my ribs like I was something breakable. He kissed like he was starving. Like he’d been waiting years to do this and couldn’t take it slow anymore.
And I?—
God, I wanted it. I wantedhim.
I shouldn’t. I couldn’t. Then I rememberedwhy.
Thewhyhit me, hard, cold, and too real.
This was so new. Impossible.
